Finding humor in the struggles of being a mom and a woman.

Mother’s Day as a Mommy.

Mother’s Day is coming. As a daughter I have celebrated Mother’s Day since the time I left the womb. Now with three little ones of my own I celebrate Mother’s Day as not only a daughter but also a mommy.

Newsflash, Mother’s Day as a mommy ain’t no picnic.

As I think back to my very first Mother’s Day I am swept up by a dream like wind and placed upon Cloud 9. As a new mommy my first born was only three weeks old and I was encased in a dome of love and first baby daze. I could have been in a prison camp and would have still relished in that May day celebrating mommyhood. Now as a mommy of three older tribe members (but still my babies) there are days I feel as if I AM IN a prison camp.

Now I want to avoid all the mundane that comes along with motherhood. I don’t want to change another diaper, give another bath or suffer through another bedtime routine. But I guess if you want the Mother’s Day presents you gotta deal with the crap and dirt … literally. Though the presents are the cherry on top of the holiday sundae, the typical Mother’s Day is also one in which I want no part of. I don’t want to attend a brunch with 100 others families while their kids and my kids scream of cause a scene. I don’t want to be ushered along in a shopping mall or boutique.

So you may be saying “Jesus lady, what is it that you want then for Mother’s Day???”

What I really want is a time machine to take me back to those Mother’s Day when my babies were still infants and I was in the safety of my cozy love dome. I was free to read, write, and surf the internet and television freely. Where I am needed for all the right reasons (snuggling and kissing boo-boos) and not for all the wrong reasons (snacks and dirty diapers). Where laying in bed and reading a book out loud is just perfect rather than a waste of time in comparison to toting children to camps and practices. To be covered in spit-up where no judgement exists only the soft breath of my children against my skin. I want eat what I want, do what I want and not worry about anyone or anything. I don’t want a three ring circus. I just want to be celebrated by enjoying what I celebrate most in life … me.

I hope you weren’t thinking I was going to say “my children” Sorry, I love my kids but damnit it’s my fricking day, so back off. 🙂